


Time is an Illusion

by Nerdette528



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Self-Harm, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-20 19:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17628287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdette528/pseuds/Nerdette528
Summary: After Quentin tries to save Eliot from the monster, Eliot tries to fix Quentin. Things don't go according to plan.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first dip into the Magician's fandom, as far as fanfics go. Some of this may be very AUish, especially as it was started before the season premiere. I have about a third of this written already, so will try to post regularly. I hope you enjoy.

Eliot stood at the edge of the Hudson, taking in a weird moment of quiet. Margo was busy studying and didn't have time for him, in fact she all but yelled at him to get out. Something about not understanding that magic takes work. Well she was right about that, it all came as easy as breathing for him.

"Could've helped her." He mumbled to himself as he skipped a stone across the water, just barely missing a pair of chilled canoers on the outer edge of the magical barrier. He smiled, amused with himself.

"I'm pretty sure talking to yourself is a sign of insanity... Or so I've been told." A wry grin crossed Eliot's features at the familiar voice.

"Or of high intelligence." Quentin laughed as he came to stand next to his friend. A warm late summer breeze floated around them.

"So what brings you by, Q? Figured you'd be with Alice." Quentin shook his head as he picked up a stone of his own and did a little slight of hand with it before Eliot floated it from his pocket. A soft chuckle emanated from his lips.

"She's in one of her study moods." The older boy grinned mischievously.

"So the boys have been left to play. Join me then. I've a nice bottle of Port that I've been saving for just an occasion as this."

Children's laughter broke Quentin from his reverie. He watched briefly as they played. These small people were free and filled with innocence, much like his early days at the academy, when an afternoon in the Brakebills’ late summer sun was spent aimlessly between classes and studies. Now he knew the horrors of war and couldn't go back.

Eliot, no not Eliot, the monster was asleep in the apartment he'd rented in the brief months he'd been Brian before the memories of his real life came flooding back and he was reminded of his new job, keep an eye on the monster and don't let him do anything stupid. Like most things in his life he had failed. Julia had found an answer, finally, there was a knife and a spell that would force the monster out and lock it away for good without a guardian. Penny was now searching for that knife.

Quentin felt a nudge in his brain, the monster was awake and looking for him. If he didn't return there would be hell to pay. Just thinking about the consequences made him flex his right hand. The last time he'd disobeyed the monster it broke his hand only to heal it the next day. Eliot was still in there, he was sure of it because sometimes the monster seemed to care about him, especially when he tried to make up for whatever wrong he had caused. He couldn’t accept that Eliot was just gone, but as time wore on, he was starting to wonder, but like the idiot he was a spark of hope still existed.

With a heavy sigh he pushed himself up from the park bench and pushed the hair out of his face. It was still long but not yet long enough to pull into a ponytail. Brian never should have cut it.

He had just reached the apartment when Penny appeared in front of him, the others in tow.

"Q, we found it." Julia's face was grim as she held out the knife. It was similar to the one she'd tried to use on Reynard, but different, older and stronger. He could feel the magic pouring out of the blade.

"So, what, we just do the spell and what. How's the knife supposed to help?" Deep down he knew but didn't want to think about it. Before anyone could answer, a sharp pain radiated through his skull, nearly bringing him to his knees but a strong arm caught him, there Penny was again, saving him. He really owed the dude.

"We have to do this now." Quentin knew he was right.

"Give me the knife."

"Q, no, I can do it." Margo had been oddly silent up to this point. He shook his head.

"I'm the only one he'll let get close. You guys stay out here, start working the spell and I... Well I guess I'll stab my best friend...." His voice had dropped to a whisper as a lump lodged itself in his throat. Margo squeezed his hand, he gave it a light squeeze before pushing away from the group. The knife was slipped up under the sleeve of his jacket. A knot had grown in his chest, this was not how he thought they'd save Eliot, sure it was never going to be an easy task but this was not how he saw things going. They were never suppose to hurt him, just save him. Eliot was a friend, he was family, and even with the devil inside how could you kill family?

"Quentin! You're home I thought I'd have to get you. Let's play now." The monster with Eliot's face nearly giggled and clapped his hands from where he stood near the kitchen island. If he wasn't so evil it might be endearing.

Quentin forced a smile, most days the monster didn't notice. He was going to have to get close, affectionate... The knot in his stomach twisted, he wanted to vomit.

"So, uh, what were you thinking?" He was terrified of the answer as he held his spot by the door, waiting to hear the others start the spell. There was no doubt they were listening to him as well, waiting to hear when he was close enough though for them it’d be no more than a calculated guess. The timing would have to be perfect and certain. The fear that the monster would feel the magic was ever-present. What if it didn’t work? What if he killed every last one of them?

"We should go the park. It's so alive." The way the last word was drawn out sent a shiver down his spine. With lead in his chest he stepped forward, slowly making his way closer.

"Um, yeah, that could, um be fun..."

"Oh do be happy, Q." He hated when it used that nickname, especially in that voice. It took everything in him not to flinch.

"I am happy." The forced smile was still in place as he came to stand beside him. It stared down on him, seemingly pleased and for the briefest of moments Quentin swore he saw of flash in it's eye, a mix of sadness and almost concern, but as soon as it was there it was gone. The monster pulled him into a strong hug, Quentin went stiff before slowly patting his back to make a show of reciprocating. Tears escaped him as he closed eyes and forced a single thought into the forefront of his mind, "Penny, now!"

"Ok, go time." Penny looked at Margo and Julia with a grave expression. Margo let her tears fall silently.

"Let's save those idiots." They raised their hands and started speaking a mixture of Arabic, Turkish and Latin. Magic formed around them, strong and old.

This was it, this was the moment they'd all been waiting for. Quentin could feel the blade warm against his skin. He tightened his fingers around it as his other arm remained across the monster's back.

"Q, I'm sorry." Quentin closed his eyes and a shaky breath escaped him. The voice, it was different, broken and so like Eliot, his Eliot. Should he look? Would they be the eyes he'd spent a lifetime staring into or the eyes of a monster who took childish pleasure in killing?

"Please look at me, Q, I don't know how much time we have." And he looked and he knew Eliot was here, the blade, almost hot now-they probably had seconds-, lay immobile in his hand.

"El, I... It's you." Forehead touched forehead as tears mixed with tears.

"Do it, please, I can't be this anymore, please lock it away, kill it, just let me be free." Words of a broken, desperate man who'd seen too much, been out of control of what his body was doing.

He knew what had to be done, knew that magic was working, knew that this time was fleeting.

"Forgive me, Q, it'll be better, I promise, just forgive me." Eliot kissed his lips, a soft yet passionate kiss and brought a hand to the side of his head. The touch sparked as he drove the knife into his heart. Lights brightened and then exploded before a magical blast separated them to either sides of the room.

Quentin could feel the darkness start to overtake as voices filled the room. Someone was kneeling over him, rubbing his chest and smoothing his hair, probably trying to revive him. It had to be Julia, he'd recognize her touch anywhere. He'd miss her or would he? The end was here, perhaps he could finally rest. Is this what Eliot meant? It must've been. It certainly had to be and suddenly Quentin accepted his fate and let go a breath.

He could suddenly sense everything, feel the brokenness of life more now than ever before. If he was a more powerful magician perhaps he could mend it like he fixed his father's plane, but he wasn't and it was suddenly ok until it wasn't. Everything came crashing around him, twisting and turning, bending and weaving. The hands had left him and below was something soft unlike the floor he'd slumped against after bouncing against the table. There were voices, muffled yet familiar, comforting. He wanted to open his eyes but found it difficult as if at the edge of sleep and awake. Was this all a dream or was this real life?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot tries to care for Q

Margo watched as Eliot poured another drink, it was only 2 in the afternoon. The rest of the house was off studying or in class, giving them a moment to themselves. She should be heading of herself but it was becoming obvious her best friend wasn't stable enough to be left on his own. Only two days ago Alice had found Quentin asleep with her and Eliot. Quentin had barely spoken to either of them since then, any talk was devoted to the mission of getting to Fillory, but outside of that the nerd kept to himself….when he wasn’t attempting to apologize to Alice.

Margo had no idea what he saw in her anyway, she was a stuck up, know it all. Quentin was the only reason she tolerated her. Now she was left with a mope of a best friend, who thought it best to drown his sorrows. There was no doubt he was still reeling from Mike's death and then to add on the thought that he'd lost a best friend, who he may or may not have a crush on, was slowly killing him.

“I don’t think he went to class today.” Margo gave him a look, they were really going to talk about this, again.

“Honey, leave him, if he wants to hide away, so be it. He made his bed.” She loved him dearly, but she couldn't keep doing this, plus she was more than pissed, it wasn't like they'd forced Quentin into this position, he'd been a willing participant.

“What if we cheered him up, apologized?” They really were doing this and Eliot wanted to apologize. The man really had it bad, she felt for him, in a way.

"Apologize for what? It's not like we forced him. He's a big boy..."

"But, Bambi!" Eliot was really working those puppy dog eyes today.

With a heavy sigh and ten minutes later they were in front of Quentin's closed door and Eliot was hesitating. Margo couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Just go in."

"What if this is a bad idea?"

"It was your idea."

Margo was ready to shove the door opened when it opened from the other side revealing a disheveled, sleepy Quentin in boxers and a grey Yale t-shirt.

"Is there something I can help you with?" His head felt like a jack hammer had taken up residence. To his knowledge he hadn't had anything to drink the night before, it didn't make sense, not to his momentarily foggy brain. It had taken every ounce of energy to just get up and to the door.

"Eliot wanted to bring you ice cream with sprinkles, thought you needed cheering up or something." Margo gestured to the bowl in Eliot's hands.

"You know the proper name is jimmies" Margo fixed Eliot with a look "what, I'm just saying..."

Quentin leaned against the door watching the two, listening when he was hit with the strongest sense of dejavu, like never before. He felt like he'd been in this conversation before, but it was different. It made him feel nauseated. Every fiber of his being tried to push it down, but it was too strong.  

Margo and Eliot stared in shock as Quentin shoved past them and ran across the hall to the communal bathroom, the thought of his own bathroom completely leaving him.

"He hated it, I knew it was stupid. Do something, Bambi." Eliot couldn't blame the younger man for hating them, even though he'd been barely conscious when everything started.

"Um, El, I don't think it's us..." His eyes widened as the sound of coughing and retching were heard.

"Poor baby's just sick. Someone should see if he's ok." She gave him a pointed look.

His eyes narrowed, "You secretly hate me don't you."

"No, I love you, now go." She gave him a small shove, a sad, knowing smile on her face as she watched him walk away. The sound tore at something in his heart and the sight that lay before him when he got there was just so sad. Had he missed something the night before? All he remembered was being ignored by someone he'd started to consider, if anything, a dear friend. Maybe he should get someone else. The gagging sound that came from the small body in front him, solidified that it had to be him, if for no other reason than he was already there.

Quentin leaned over the toilet, one hand held his hair the other was wrapped around the edge. There was nothing in his stomach, all he could bring up was bile before resorting to dry heaving then spitting. Something was wrong, very wrong. His body felt like lead, as if moving through a dream his mind was just as unclear. A soft moan escaped him when something cool and damp came to rest on his neck, when had someone come in. The smell of wine, cigarettes and expensive cologne exploited his sensitive senses. Something twisted in his gut like an old, painful memory. He coughed and sputtered before resting his hot head on his arm, his eyes drifted shut. A familiar hand rested on the exposed side of his head, he flinched involuntarily, the hand disappeared.

"Q?" Eliot's voice was hesitant, almost nervous as he sat at the edge of the tub. He was afraid he may have hurt him or that Quentin really did hate him that much.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Quentin was crying, not entirely sure what he was apologizing for or why he'd reacted the way he had. Confident enough that his stomach would behave for the moment, he flushed and leaned back against the cool tub, the cloth fell from his neck, he didn't bother with it. His head was inches from Eliot's knee but he refused to look at him, tears continued to fall down his cheeks, any energy to wipe them away was spent. Eliot was confused, obviously the younger man was sick but he had no idea what he was currently apologizing or why he was crying.

"Don't be sorry, I'm sorry I touched you." because at the moment maybe that was it, he was surprised when Quentin rested his head on his knee, with hesitation, afraid of how he'd react, Eliot ran gentle fingers through his hair. The heat radiating off him was concerning, maybe they should call Lipson.

"I'm sorry we fucked things up for you and Alice." So perhaps now wasn't the best time, but it was now or never.

Quentin half laughed, half sobbed, "Feels like a lifetime ago." Eliot's fingers stopped, concern raising to alert. He slipped from the edge of the tub to kneel beside the ill man. With more gentleness than he realized he had, he thumbed away tears and lifted his chin, pleased when he didn’t pull away.

"Quentin, that was only two days ago."

"Oh, yeah I guess it was...." His voice wavered and his eyes, glassy with fever and damp with tears, looked straight at him.

"El, I think I'm really broken this time. My mind, it thinks things, things that make no sense or never happened. I need help." Tears slipped from his eyes as his voice broke. At a loss at what to do, Eliot wrapped his arms around him. Quentin leaned into him like his life depended on it.

Right now he was lost, so lost. Nothing was making sense in his already broken brain. Eliot's body and scent brought so much, want, love, family, and fear. The fear made the least of sense, what was his broken mind brewing for him to feel this. Tender fingers were once again running through his hair breeding calm.

The calm was broken when a voice came booming throughout the room.

"Seriously, you called me for this, asshole?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who have offered Kudos and bookmarked this story, thank you! 
> 
> Also, I promise this story is going somewhere. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny reluctantly makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooner update than I was planning, but here it is. Sorry if it's a little shorter, I promise there's more to come.

Sunderland sat with Penny, helping him to learn how to focus his ability and travel safely. He'd been getting better, now he wanted to travel other people. Sunderland didn't think he was ready. It was an argument they'd run through several times, what she didn't know was they needed to get to Fillory, for the sake of the girl trapped in the dungeon and probably for all of humanity.

A voice in his brain tugged at his senses. His first inclination was to groan, but the panic and urgency set him on edge. The nerd would only call on him if it was important.

It took him an hour to find him. Focusing on Quentin the direction his mind was dictating lead him to multiple locations starting with an apartment in Brooklyn. He was met by a startled young couple who threatened to call the cops if he didn't get out. There was slight amusement from the man who held what looked to be an antique letter opener to him with a shaky hand, he had a bookish look about him. In a weird way Penny was reminded of Quentin, if the idiot didn't have magic. But after mentally searching the apartment and discovering said nerd was not there, he hightailed out of there with a huff. He had not planned on a wild goose chase when waking up.

The next lead brought him to the edge of the woods next to a deserted cottage. Weeds grew over a large enclosed square, he presumed it once held a garden. Being as careful as possible, he searched the little cottage and even a small area of the surrounding woods. Nothing. With a curse and a kick to the dirt, Penny fumed. What was Quentin doing and why? The plea continued to nudge him, as if on repeat. The tone never changed, always urgent and panicked. He focused again, hoping this would be the last stop, he had better things to do.

The residual smell of someone getting sick lingered in the air and when he saw Quentin clinging to Eliot he couldn't help but dogs just a little. If he was a different person it may have been heartwarming, but he wasn't. There was no reason that he was needed here, no matter how pathetic the man in question looked. This was a waste of his time.

"Seriously, you called me for this, asshole?!" Quentin startled out of Eliot's hold who in turn set him with an ice cold stare.

"Look man, you called, I came, not that you made it easy, sent me all over kingdom come."

"Maybe, you just have shit aim." Eliot was in no mood for the traveler.

Quentin cleared his throat before pushing of Eliot to stand. Penny's presence truly confused him. He brushed a strand of hair from his face and crossed his arms.

"I never called you." Why would he?

"Yes, Coldwater, you did, repeatedly. You're still doing it." Though it was starting to grow faint, but the same tone was there.

Eliot now stood alongside Quentin who unconsciously leaned into him. Despite it all Eliot couldn't help but smile a little. The smile was short lived.

"I really didn't and I'm not. Just go Penny." He was suddenly very tired, unsure how much longer he could stay awake.

" 'Penny, now!' is all I keep hearing. Trust me I'd like to...."

If it hadn't been for Eliot, Quentin would've smacked his head on the tub. His head exploded in pain, he was sure he saw stars before crying out and going limp.

"Shit, what happened?!" Penny's eyes widened as he stepped forward. Maybe something really was wrong.

Eliot looked up at him, a burning, unconscious Quentin in his arms. He was clueless on how to help.

"We need to get him to Lipson, can you do it?" There was panic in his voice.

"I..." He wasn't sure "I can try." Kneeling down he touched both of them and silently prayed he wouldn't kill either of them. He may not like either of them, but he sure as hell wouldn’t let them die, if he could help it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny takes a trip into Quentin's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the last chapter wasn't very long, or great. I realized I rushed it, for stupid, personal reasons. Here's a longer, hopefully better chapter. Thank you to those who have offered kudos despite it all.

They landed in the lobby of the infirmary. Penny silently checked Eliot and Quentin over, verifying they were all in one piece. They were, he'd been successful. A small wave of pride and excitement rose through him. He'd actually done it. The feeling was short lived though.

"What happened to him?" A student healer questioned, her tone all business, he hated her already.

"Go get Lipson." If anyone was going to help them, it was going to be someone they trusted and especially not some student. The girl ran off before Penny glanced at Quentin's unconscious form then to Eliot.

"Seriously, what happened to him? And why would he be calling for me?" He stood, arms crossed, leaving Eliot to deal with the fallen idiot. In all honesty he could leave, but he was already here, the least he could do was get some answers.

Eliot had pulled Quentin onto a stretch of chairs and currently had his head in his lap. A sigh escaped him as he combed the younger man's hair with his fingers. It was becoming a habit he'd have to learn to curb.

"Honestly I have no idea. At first I thought maybe he ate what Todd made the night before, but obviously", he waved his free hand over Quentin, "that's not the case, that or Todd's a worse cook than I give him credit for." It was a lame attempt at a joke and neither laughed.

"It's magic." Penny and Eliot looked to see Lipson, a grave expression on her face as she stepped forward. She kneeled in front the chairs and brushed a strand of hair from the young man's face and felt his cheeks and forehead, making a disapproving sound before standing up again.

"Let's get him into a bed. We'll definitely have to start by bringing that fever down." Quentin made no sign of stirring as Eliot picked him up with ease, causing him to wonder how much he really ate.

"The hedge bitch again?" Eliot was still pissed about that, Penny's face hardened at the mention of her. While he wasn't going to say that he and Coldwater were friends, he didn't do friends, but after how messed up he'd been when they'd brought him back and where that bitch had sent him, had softened him if only a little toward the guy and a seed of hatred for Julia had been planted.

"No, no, this is something different. I need to talk to the dean, but first let's set him up. Go ahead and lay him on the bed. We're going to run some tests, so just stand back." Lipson had already learned that despite their differences these kids wouldn't abandon each other. A weird bond had formed in their time at Brakebills.

Eliot leaned against an empty bed, arms crossed and frown on his face as he watched the healers work.

"I need to get ahold of Bambi. She's probably freaking out right about now. We just disappeared."

"I'm here, baby. Penny's voice was hard to miss."

Margo slipped passed Penny as he flipped her off and came next to her other half. She wrapped her arms around his waist and looked at the occupied bed. If Quentin died she was bringing him back and killing him all over. They hadn't even known him a year, but he was an integral part of the group, despite all the recent drama.

"Do they have answers?" He sighed

"All they know is it's magical. Not sure what yet."

"Penny may be able to help with that." The three of them looked up at Dean Fogg. When did he arrive?

"No, I am not going in his head again." But he knew better.

"Someone needs to talk to Quentin and this is the only way. We're not sure when he will wake up." And there it was, another magical coma. But this was different, Lipson wasn't even sure what she was working with and the dean was just as clueless. It now occurred to him that Quentin's mind was silent in a way he'd never experienced, he could only hope that he could get in. Leave it to Coldwater to make things complicated.

Penny settled on a bed, with all eyes on him, yeah, no pressure or anything. He tuned them out as he closed his eyes and focused. When he opened his eyes he was standing in the living room of an apartment, in fact it looked exactly like the young couple's place. What was this place and why here?

"You're early." Penny spun around to see Quentin sitting on the couch. Papers were spread over the coffee table, a cup of coffee off to the side.

"I'm here to save you, again, how am I early?" Quentin who had barely looked up when he arrived, was now pushing a pair of glasses to the top of his head. His hair was shorter.

"So we're changing the scene a bit, guess he got bored."

"Who got bored and what are you doing?"

"Grading papers, waiting for Julia, we're getting coffee." Penny wanted to shake him, it's like he just didn't care... Or didn't know.

"Listen, Julia's not coming, at least not the real one. This is fake." A look of fear crossed Quentin's face. Maybe he was finally getting through to him.

"You really shouldn't be here, Penny."

"Fogg sent me, not my choice."

"I'm fine, now, please." There was desperation written across his features.

"You are literally the opposite of fine, Lipson thinks-"

"Quentin! Time to play, oh, this is unfortunate." Eliot came sauntering through the door, wearing a playful yet sinister grin. It was completely unnerving. What sort of whacked out dream had he walked into?

"Penny, now, please! Just go." He was standing now as Eliot stepped toward Penny.

"You're not supposed to be here." Penny cried in pain and fell to the ground as Eliot waved a finger, slashing his chest. Quentin started to yell.

"I'm not going anywhere, just please let him go." Darkness was starting to overcome him. Whoever this deranged Eliot was, he had power, not just over the dream but over Quentin. It was power that terrified him.

"Very well, goodbye Penny." Eliot sounded disappointed and before he knew it he was back in the infirmary, clutching at his chest and gasping at the sudden shift. Eliot had forced him out.

"Penny?" Fogg. He ignored him and looked directly at the man in question, pushing away one of the healers who tried to look him over.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Um, what was what." He had the audacity to look puzzled.

"It was you, in his head. You forced me out." That was a new one for him, especially since he didn't think Eliot wielded the same ability. He wanted answers and he wanted answers now, but it seemed they would have to wait. Fogg nodded to the healers to return to his side, the wound in his chest had carried over from the dream world and was causing a blood to seep through his shirt.

“Rest, Penny, Mr. Waugh, how about you and I have a chat.” The energy seemed to drain while he watched with weary as Fogg ushered Eliot out of the room. Maybe he could rest his eyes, if just for a minute. Nimble fingers were working on the wound, they felt like feathers. Was he drugged? Nothing was making sense. Perhaps Fogg was right, he should rest, for just a couple hours then he’d figure out was going on.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin finds he's literally stuck in his own head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little darker than the others and does contain mentions of self harm and attempted suicide.

He was tired, so very tired, he never really slept anymore, just spent endless days waking up.  Time as Eliot, the real Eliot, would say was an illusion. It was starting to become apparent how true that really was. The first time he woke up it was to a text from Julia

'See you tomorrow, I'll bring the coffee'.

At the time he thought he'd forgotten some conversation they'd had and just accepted. They never got to the heart of the visit though. Death always seemed to precede it. At first it seemed he was stuck in an endless Groundhog Day and he did everything possible to change the outcome. He had watched Margo, Penny and Julia die over and over. Most of the time the monster killed them but sometimes it was accidental or by his hand.

In the 11th or 12th loop, he wasn't entirely positive at this point, he had stared up at the monster, Julia's lifeless form in his arms on the floor, pleading and questioning, with tears streaming down his face.

“Why are you doing this? Please, I’ll do whatever you want, just stop, make it stop.” The monster had simply given him a sardonic, pitiful grin and explained how this was his punishment for trying to leave him.

After that, when he was alone, waiting for the next shoe to drop, he resorted to something that he was sure he’d given up. Sometimes it was when he was having a smoke, others when he was in the shower. The call to burn the butt of a cigarette into his flesh or carve a small mark with a blade had become too much. For a moment it relieved the tension he was feeling, but by the dawn of a “new” day, the evidence was gone and he knew he’d have to live it all again. If the monster was watching, it didn’t care, for it never tried to stop him. He started to wonder what would happen if he did worse.

 In the 14th loop Margo slipped on a spill on the floor and hit her head on the table, on the 16th loop Penny was stabbed with a pencil Quentin accidentally sent flying, number 19 he slit Julia's throat with a knife after turning from cutting a bagel to look at her. At 20 he hid away in his room and let them all die. This was the loop that consumed him. As the sounds of his friends dying, right outside his door, reached his ears, he grabbed the blade from the bathroom and sat with his back against the door. Tears fell silently as he stared at the cold metal before setting it against his wrist. With resolve he made a deep incision before moving onto his other wrist. There was a disconnect as he watched the blood pool and start to drop to the floor, and this was how it ended, almost like that T.S. Elliot poem. If he’d been more coherent he would have laughed. The thing was, it didn’t end, because just as he let go, assured he was free from this prison, he woke up to his phone going off and his skin free of any evidence that he ever tried anything. This was his new, endless life, maybe it was hell.   

After the 25th loop he realized it was frivolous to do anything but just live out the day. When he got up that morning he responded to Julia, not bothering to hint this time that something was wrong. It never did any good anyway. He made a pot of coffee and grabbed a banana to eat. The funny thing was the bananas didn't taste right, it was on loop 5 he decided they tasted like fake banana flavor. It was weird.

He settled into the couch, ready to grade the same papers he'd been grading since this whole thing started. None of them made sense. There had been one about the history of ice cream, another going into depth about haunted houses with a bunch of little ghosts drawn around the paper, there was even one about dogs and that one just basically listed the breeds. The topics didn't even correlate and all had the maturity of a third grader. He'd looked for clues on how to escape in them but after memorizing the papers, he gave up. They were just silly nothing more. Which was why he wondered why he still bothered reading them. Maybe a hope that something would appear or just because it was what he was suppose to do. Perhaps he was just crazy. He pushed up his glasses for a moment and rubbed his eyes. He hated them, but they had become necessary for reading.

"You could've left out the glasses." The monster ignored him. "These papers are crap, Bry-guy would have a coronary." He smiled a little at his nickname for his alter ego. The fact that he was talking to himself was not lost on him, but it helped relieve some of the anxiety.

His phone dinged next to him, but he ignored it. It was Kady asking if he'd spoken to Penny. Penny-23 never did connect the same way with her, at this rate she was better with Margo. For whatever reason he’d never officially seen Kady in any of the loops, feasibly it was because she hadn’t been there at the time they’d attempted to kill the monster, he wasn’t really sure though. If her absence meant he didn’t have to add another dead friend to his list, he was fine with that.

 After taking another sip of his cooling coffee he went back to the papers. Maybe he’d burn them this time. A familiar woosh alerted him to traveler, Penny. A quick glance at his phone told him what he already knew. "You're early."

It didn't take long to realize this was the real Penny, not an illusion. Quentin's fears were proven right when the monster returned and forced him out, nearly killing the poor guy. Now he was alone, again, with him.

"Your friend did a very bad thing, Quentin." He clenched his jaw and looked to the ceiling, gathering strength. How much longer could he stay here? He must be alive still, but for how long?

"He was just trying to help, I'm sorry. He didn't know."

"And he was right to come, I'm sorry Q, it was never supposed to last this long." Quentin spun around to see Eliot, an expression of guilt and sadness written across his features, this was his Eliot but how?

He looked back at the monster then at Eliot, was this real?

"Yes I'm really here, I said I'd fix it and I will." 

"You can't have him." The monster tilted his head, looking at Eliot.

"He doesn't belong here. You've had him long enough." The monster looked ready to attack before Eliot sent an invisible force against him and suddenly Quentin found himself standing in front of the cottage he'd once shared.

"How?" Quentin looked up at the taller man.

"You were happy here, we both were. It's time for you to rest."

"But it isn't real...."

"You're not ready, when I sent you back, something went wrong. I think he messed it up." Eliot’s brow furrowed, as if he were trying to solve a complex calculation.

"How?" The repeated question encompassed a multitude of questions.

"When I woke up, before you stabbed me", there was no malice in his voice but Quentin still winced with guilt, "I still had his magic, I used it, thought I'd make things right. Guess I fucked up, he was still there."

"It wasn't you." He placed a comforting hand on Eliot's arm.

"I was still there." The realization that Eliot saw everything tore at Quentin's heart. A part of him had always been concerned, but the fight to defeat the monster and retrieve Eliot had overshadowed.

"But enough of that, it's time to have some fun." He didn't mean to, because the tone wasn't really the same and this was the real Eliot, at least he hoped, but he suddenly found himself stiff and taking an unconscious step back. It didn't go unnoticed because Eliot's face fell.

"Q...."

"Just, uh, give me a moment. I'm going to take a walk. I'm sorry." Eliot watched as he walked away. All he wanted to do was fix what he broke, no, what the monster broke. To give the chance to mend him and let him have a moment of freedom and peace before it was time to return to the real world. This may be more difficult than he hoped.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny tries to Quentin again.

A healer had cleaned up Penny's wound yet insisted he spend the night. The night had been uneventful, they'd given him something to help him sleep. When he woke up healers had gathered around Quentin's bed, he saw Alice off to the side, wiping at tears. Whatever they gave him left his mind still in a fog, so he couldn't hear what she was thinking. As much as he hated nearly always being privy to others, it was weird to be left out of the loop. The sense of hearing others had become a part of him.

She must have seen him stir because just as he was sitting up she was by his side. They hadn't really spoken since the night they'd spent together. Yeah, she was cute, but there was no way she’d ever really be into a guy like him, plus there was the whole Kady matter. That was a whole other issue that his head…and heart…weren’t ready to tackle.

"His fever spiked and he started to seize." That explained the crowd.

"Did Eliot say what he did?" He looked to her. Despite trying to stay as far away from the physical kids as possible, something always drew him in, usually leading him to save Coldwater. Had the guy broken a lot of mirrors as a child?

"Swears it wasn't him."

"But he was there, asshole did this to me." He pointed to his chest. It still hurt, though less so than before.

"I don't know, Penny, Fogg's looking into it." She was looking back at Quentin's bed, he was now surrounded in ice packs and one of the healers was performing a cooling spell. He looked so small laying there and too still, even when he was sitting the guy was moving, even if it was just fidgeting with his fingers. Nervous energy seemed to plague him. The animosity Penny typically felt towards him, seem to edge away in that moment. There had to be something they could do, something to save him.

“Do they know what’s wrong?” She shook her head and sat heavily in the chair next to his bed. There was weariness that surrounded her, knowing Alice she probably hadn’t slept much since she found out, he wondered who broke the news.

“I hated him, for what he did that night, but I didn’t want this.” She looked like she was ready to cry again, it made him uncomfortable. Crying was never his thing, Quentin’s sure, the guy was soft and empathetic, he just, wasn’t.

“You didn’t do this.” She offered him a watery smile before standing again.

“I’m going to go search the library, maybe there’s an answer.” At least she was trying to be useful, he’d all but failed. “See you later, Penny.” A feeling of abandonment started to creep in as he watched her walk away. At the end of the day she’d been there to look in on Quentin, him being there was purely coincidental. But then she paused and looked at him, “I’m glad you’re ok.” Maybe he wasn’t completely coincidental.

An hour went by and he could feel the drugs wearing off, they were going to release him once they replaced the bandages. The cut wasn’t too deep, he would survive, but the same was still unknown about the man just in the other bed.  Why should he care? But he did, he really hated when he realized he cared, nothing good ever came from caring, but now he cared just enough to not let an innocent soul slip away into some malevolent, magical hold.

With quick glance to assure no one was looking, he closed his eyes and focused. There was no telling what he'd face in that destructive brain. When he opened his eyes he was met with black. It was empty, for a brief moment he couldn't help but chuckle.

"I am definitely using this later."

"Penny." He spun, once again to see Eliot. On instinct he threw a spell, not wanting to be attacked again. It bounced off him like water. What was this guy’s deal? Always there, invincible. Coldwater’s subconscious? Something told him that wasn’t it, this Eliot was something else, someone else.

"I'm not here to hurt you, but you can't be here. He's not ready."

"Ready for what? What are you doing to him?" A sad sort of smile crossed his lips as he stepped forward. It nearly made Penny shiver.

"Fixing him." An anger surged through Penny.

"Like hell, he's dying out there."

"Q is a survivor and I promise he will survive this. Now go, I won't ask again." His voice was firm and his stance was tall in a way he’d never seen before.

Penny gasped as he came back to the real world. How did this keep happening?

"Fuck."

"Penny, welcome back." Well so much for going unnoticed.

Fogg stared down at him, eyes unreadable behind sunglasses. He was probably screwed, pretty sure messing around in another student's head without permission was against the rules, reading minds didn't count.

"Uh, hey. Thanks for the drugs, really helped me sleep." That sounded lame even to him.

"Hmmm, so, any success?" Maybe he was excused.

"Other than being forced out, again? Apparently he's not ready or some shit." None of this was making sense.

"Was it Eliot?" Fogg seemed curious yet pessimistic. No one wanted one of their students to be evil, and while Eliot never struck him as evil, he was definitely omnipresent.

"Sure looked like Eliot, at least he didn't try to kill me this time." And for that he was grateful. There were still so many questions that needed answered. He’d like to ask the man himself, but he seemed to have vacated the premises, probably drowning his worries away. Once released Penny would most assuredly make a stop by the cottage, he had questions he wanted answers to.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin tries to wrap his head around his new reality. It doesn't start off so well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sadly the end of the pre-written story, I will try to write more soon, however work and some personal things might not make that so easy. Please don't give up on this story because I will give it the best of my ability to write more soon.

He tried to control his breathing like he’d been taught, but each intake and outtake of air was shaky. The oxygen wasn’t coming fast enough. If done longer, maybe it would even out, but impatience overpowered him and he stopped trying, instead he resorted to digging his nails as hard as he could into the palms of his hands, the pain causing a hint of relief as he kneeled in front of a tall tree. The inside of his lip was starting to hurt as he bit down. It really should concern him but all he cared about was whether or not he was free, maybe this was just another trick, a new game for them to play. Maybe this was his new life, stuck in his head. Sure it many days felt like that, but this was too literal. Was his body even still alive and if so where was it? There was a hazy recollection of waking up in the cottage, but after that only this endless, world, dream, whatever you wanted to call it. Eliot was waiting for him, back by the home they once shared, but was that really Eliot or just another figment of the monster? Breathing still erratic, he felt the familiar prick of tears as his throat tightened, crying wasn’t acceptable, there was no way he was letting it show that he was vulnerable, he’d already done that. If this was his life, he had to accept it, as long as he was allowed a moment to hide away.

 He closed his eyes and bowed his head, trying again to release the tightness in his chest.

"You can do this, just breath. This is Eliot and he won't hurt you, not here." Because surely the monster wouldn't bring him to such a sacred place as this and speak as softly and kindly as Eliot had back when they first arrived. "But maybe he read my thoughts and realized this would hurt more." Thoughts were spinning, offering no sense of relief.

Feeling drained and defeated, Quentin stayed in the familiar woods until the sun had dipped far below the trees. The air held that of a summer's night, it was almost soothing. Maybe he should just stay here, but he knew whoever had really brought him here would come looking soon enough. The panic had calmed to a dull roar and he knew it was now or never.

Before he reached the clearing he smelled the smoke of a fire, the crackling and orange glow met him as he stepped out. Eliot sat, stoking it with one hand and holding a glass of wine in another. He stood and watched for a moment, remembering all the nights spent like this. Just the two of them, then there was Arielle and Teddy. He remembered Teddy falling asleep in the arms of whoever's lap he landed in after fighting off dragons and slaying monsters. They'd carry him into the cottage, tuck him in with a kiss then return to watch the dying embers. He remembered the summer Arielle became sick, there weren’t many fires that year. Her death had left him nearly immobile for what had felt like eternity, then  he remembered a night, similar to this. Teddy had fallen asleep next to him while Eliot had been working on the mosaic, but despite being exhausted himself he pulled Quentin from the bed.

_Eliot walked into the bedroom, careful not to wake the slumbering child. Quentin watched from the bed, stroking Teddy’s soft hair. He was sure Eliot would strip down to his pants, he’d started sleeping with them after Teddy started sharing the room, but instead he grabbed two sweaters and a blanket from a chest at the foot of the bed._

_“Come outside with me, Q.” His voice was firm, yet gentle, a soft order._

_“I don’t want to leave him.” Eliot had sighed heavily. Quentin knew this was hard on him, he'd loved Arielle too, they'd been one big family, but he was sad, he was angry and if he had to admit it he was afraid, afraid of what happened next. Was he just supposed to let her go? Would Teddy be alright?_

_“He’s asleep, he’ll be fine.” There was a hint of annoyance but mostly tenderness._

_Despite his reluctance, Quentin gave in, slipping away from his son. He’d tucked the blanket over his small form and kissed his forehead, brushing a few strands of hair away in the process. “He looks so much like her.” A steady arm came around his shoulders and a kiss was placed on his head. The patience and love he endured was more than he deserved._

_“Come on, there’s even wine.” A small smile tugged at his lips._

_“There’s always wine.” But he allowed Eliot to pull him out. The air was crisp, but the stars were bright. He pulled the sweater over his head and leaned into Eliot as they settled in, the blanket over them, watching the fire that had been built in secret. That night they talked and sang (after a few glasses), laughed and cried and when the moment felt right kissed. It was a kiss that said, ‘We’re in this together no matter what comes our way’. It was finally okay to move forward again, despite it all._

"You came back." When had Eliot moved? Quentin looked up at him with unsure eyes, looking at the weak smile playing on his lips, those eyes looking at him with a timidness he’d never seen in the monster. That look had come in rare moments, when it'd just be the two of them.

"It was getting cold." He offered a small smile of his own and then glanced at the fire. Its glow felt like home.

"Need company?" Eliot's smile seemed to widen a little.

"There's enough wine for two." If times had been different he would’ve responded as he had all those years ago, or whatever time was when it was reset. Perhaps this was a dream, maybe an alternate universe, or even a limbo. It was time though, time to let fate take its course, if even just for a minute. He was due a bit of rest and maybe this was it. Later he’d learn the truth of this new world, but for now he’d let the fire and promise of wine and sweet memories lure him in

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think and anything you may want to see, I'll see if I can fit it in.


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